


I Know You're Mine

by MoMoMomma



Series: Kinktober 2018 [23]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, M/M, Scenting, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 22:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16396301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: Jacob scoffs, shares a look with John as the Marshal orders someone else to do his dirty work. Weak. But his shoulders draw up, tight around his ears, when Joseph stops mid-sentence, mid-sermon, to breathe out a quiet note of surprise.“Oh. You’re one of us.”





	I Know You're Mine

Jacob has an overly sensitive nose. It’s surprising, given the amount of damage it’s taken over the years. From the constant stench of sharp whiskey as a child to the gas rooms in basic and the overpowering and disorienting gunpowder and smoke smell overseas. He’s gotten used to dulling it purposefully, smearing mint or Vicks beneath his nose to try and block out a bevy of unwanted smells as he goes about his life.

The only time he doesn’t is when he’s in his element, up at the Veterans Center, fear and blood a mix of scent that satiates something snarling inside his chest. 

Joseph had murmured once, after they’d all come together and settled in Hope County, that his nose was a gift. Something more sensitive than their species generally has, even though the baseline is leaps and bounds above human capabilities. Had laid hands on his shoulders, head tipped against Jacob’s own, and told him it was his strength. His way of weeding out the weak and unworthy no matter how good a front they put up.

Jacob already knew that. But it was nice to know someone else thought his curled lip disgust at the smell of weakness--putrid and acidic, like a prey animal wetting itself in fear--wasn’t just him being an asshole. 

It’s how he knows there are intruders on their territory before John lifts his head, his ears nearly as sensitive as Jacob’s nose. Can smell the scent of them--weakweakweak--mixed with the fire outside and the overwhelming devotion that pours off Joseph’s faithful. He shifts in place, Joseph’s preaching a pleasant drone in the back of his mind, and draws a breath in, slow and deep. 

There’s something new. Something different than the laundry fresh and gunpowder scent every member of the Sheriff’s Department around here has lingering on them. Something...exciting.

John shoots him a look when he can’t quite fight back the growl that rumbles in his chest, eyes calculating, those fucking ears too sharp for his own good. It makes him ideal for his job, picking up the slight changes to tone to indicate lies or truth when he hears the confessions, but it’s annoying when Jacob doesn’t want to suffer through his younger brother’s curiosity. Joseph doesn’t seem bothered, if he heard, probably thinking Jacob’s getting caught up in the sermon. 

And Faith is human. She’s never quite understood or been able to pick up on the more obvious signs of their deviancy. It’s why Jacob gave her a few wolves--real life paltry companions for the lack of one howling in her bloodstream. 

Joseph doesn’t stop preaching when the doors are opened, strangers in their midst stepping through like they have any right. He only grows louder, throwing his voice around the room, letting it echo with the fervor of his preachings.

But Jacob can’t focus on that. Can’t focus on anything except the sweet, citrus sharp scent of something-- _someone_ \--new. There’s a new Deputy keeping close on the Sheriff’s heels, one that’s leaking the scent into the air, practically leaving a trail of it behind them. His head is low, eyes swinging around as he follows the Sheriff and a Marshal--weak, he smells _weak_ \--up the aisle. 

Normally Jacob would be more focused on the body language. Tense but ready, nervous but confident, hand never straying towards his service weapon but held loose at his side like he can grab it at any moment. 

But that fucking _scent_.

Joseph isn’t bothered when they interrupt, snarling out warnings with just a touch too much wolf in his voice. The humans will brush it off, they always do, but John shifts, uneasy, behind the podium. Jacob’s tight too, rolling his shoulders and neck as they fall into place at Joseph’s back, silent support for their brother and threat to the newcomers. But it’s not Joseph that’s winding him up.

“Rook, cuff this sonofabitch.”

Jacob scoffs, shares a look with John as the Marshal orders someone else to do his dirty work. Weak. But his shoulders draw up, tight around his ears, when Joseph stops mid-sentence, mid-sermon, to breathe out a quiet note of surprise.

“Oh. You’re one of us.”

Rook--his name or a title? Jacob will find out.--doesn’t respond, just gently draws cuffs from behind his back and slowly slips them on. There’s an overpowering sharpness to the air, one that has John backing up a step, lips pressed tightly like he’s fighting the urge to gag.

Wolfsbane. Laced into the cuffs--which means they’re not exactly Hope County regulation.

It also means this sweet-smelling pup is _smart_. 

But not quite smart enough. The Sheriff and Marshal turn, stride forwards with an air of accomplishment. Rook slips behind Joseph, hand on his shoulder, and Jacob chances one more long inhale now that he’s so close. Like newly sliced lemons, sugar sitting close for a topping to cut through the bite of it all. It slips through his nose, crawls down his spine and wraps around the base of his cock, forcing a snarl that he didn’t mean to let free.

It’s enough, though. The sound is enough to have the Rook turning, not following despite the Sheriff and Marshal being clear of the doors, out into the courtyard by now. His eyes are bright--not moon-fever sharp or new moon clear but bright because he knows he’s amongst his kind--and his jaw goes a little slack, lip twitching like he wants to snarl back. Jacob tips his head, a smile pulling but not showing, not warning Rook before his Chosen move in. One yanking Joseph safely away while the other drives the butt of his gun into Rook’s temple.

Hard enough to kill a human. Luckily for them...Rook isn’t exactly human.

“Get rid of the Sheriff and his little ragtag group.” Jacob orders, striding forwards and crouching next to Rook’s unconscious form.

Fuck, but he smells even better up close. Enough to clear his sinuses, fill them until he’s almost wavering. John’s scent is something close to an annoyance, creeping up behind alongside his footsteps until he’s peering over Jacob’s shoulder. If it were anyone else, human or otherwise, but his family...they’d be bleeding right about now.

“He’s packless,” John observes softly while Faith busies herself helping Joseph remove the cuffs--the metal not burning her fingers like it would John’s or his. “And he went down far too easily. Weak, maybe?”

“It’s close a new moon,” Joseph says softly, joining them and rubbing idly at the marks around either wrist, burnt bright red and irritated like a rash. “Our powers wane if we do not band together during that time. It’s not surprising to think it would be the same for others.”

Not that any of them know. Not even Jacob, traveling like he did, have met any of their kind. They’re reclusive by nature, unwilling to join in with society. So finding another in Hope County, one that willingly donned a Deputy’s uniform and lived amongst the humans...it’s strange. It’s new. 

Makes him even more enticing, if Jacob’s being honest with himself.

“What do we do with him?” Faith joins them, completing the circle, opposite Rook’s body and directing her question at him rather than Joseph. “He didn’t come here with good intentions...but he’s alone.”

“I’ll take him,” Jacob says, rises to his feet and holds up a hand to waylay any protests. “Say he wakes up and decides, waning or not, he’s going to try and fight. Say he’s actually halfway decent at it. Either one of you want to take that chance?”

John looks disgruntled, like he wants to argue but knows better than to try. Joseph simply nods, reaches out to lay a hand on his shoulder. 

“Do what you feel is necessary. Let me know how he responds to your trials.”

Jacob nods; tries to keep his face, his scent, as neutral as possible. It works, for John and Joseph at least, both of them striding shoulder to shoulder towards the back of the church, John fussing over Joseph’s wounds. Jacob has no doubt John’s ears are ringing, his own feel a bit scrapped raw with all the screaming and gunfire outside--his people are effective, he’ll give them that--and the quiet focus of patching up Joseph will be good for him.

Faith lingers though, eyes tracking John and Joseph’s retreat until the door closes with a soft sound. She dips her gaze to Rook, taking a step back and offering him a small sort of smile.

“He’s not going through the trials, is he, Jacob?”

It’s not an accusation, despite Jacob’s hackles going up immediately. Faith is Faith because she accepts so readily, sees what others don’t. Saw what they were before anyone let her in on the little secret. He huffs out a choked sort of chuckle, shakes his head, glances between Rook--citrus sharp and good, so fucking good--and her. 

“Plan on ratting me out?”

“No. You have your reasons and I trust you.” Faith twirls, heads towards the doors of the church, probably to go observe the mayhem. “Let me know if you need anything to...soften his resolve.”

Yeah. Hard pass. The Bliss makes him sneeze on a good day, cloying and packing into his nose until Jacob’s off balance with it. He doesn’t want it anywhere near Rook, doesn’t want it tainting the scent that’s still making the wolf in his veins howl, claw for him to touch-take-claim.

He even tucks Rook into his side on the trip back to the mountains, riding in the back seat with the limp weight of him sloppily leaned up against Jacob’s bulk. It’s enough to allow Jacob to bury his nose in the mop of black hair atop his head, drag in breath after breath until he feels dizzy, drunk on it. There’s a moment of tension, when Rook grumbles under his breath and shifts, but he simply wriggles more firmly into Jacob’s side and relaxes once more.

He won’t be out for very long. It’s a testament to the approaching moon and Rook’s status as packless that’s put him out for this long just with a blow to the head. 

Jacob doesn’t know why he’s nuzzling in with soft little growls, like the pups sometimes do when one of the Judges had a breeding take and carry to term. It could be anything from unconscious realization he’s among his own kind--for likely the first time in his life--to him unwittingly accepting Jacob as a safe place, a more powerful wolf to bend to, to obey, to find comfort in. It’s just enough uncertainty to make him protective, scooping Rook into his arms once they’re back at the Veteran’s Center. 

The Judges rush him the second he’s past the gates, sniffing at his clothes, at Rook’s body, high whines and soft yips of curiosity. His men marvel a bit, he can distantly smell their surprise over the thick scent of blood and pain that washes this place, but Jacob ignores them, sending the Judges away with a soft growl. He’s sure he’ll have to introduce Rook eventually, show him his new pack, his new family away from whatever pseudo-family he’d had before.

Right now he’s more concerned with making sure he gets some privacy. Much as he relishes in the blood and sharp bite of anguish here, it’s making it harder to discern Rook’s natural scent from it all.

“Sir?” One of his Chosen, trusted and calm as ever, stepping forwards to swing his office door open with a sharp nod of her head. “We’ve brought in one of the Deputies under Faith’s command. One to you, one to John, and one to her. Where would you like him?”

“Shove him in a cage for now.” Jacob steps inside, calls over his shoulder after a considering glance down at where Rook is stirring. “No trials just yet. Maybe our new guest will want a playmate.”

He’ll get Rook anything he wants...within reason. Jacob’s not an idiot, he knows that no matter how enamored he is with Rook at the moment, there’s going to be a struggle. A packless wolf isn’t going to just neatly slot himself into Jacob’s life, his pack, without some fighting. Not if he had the balls to follow humans into the fray like he did. But if he has something familiar...if Jacob has leverage to use against the more aggressive misbehavior…

Might make everything a bit easier for everyone. 

Rook’s eyes open the second Jacob lays him down on the bed, stepping back out of reach for the moment as he regards him. The reaction is instant, a snarl low and vicious filling the room as he scrambles back against the metal headboard, fingers curled into claws in the sheets. He can see the incisors lengthening to points, preparing to rip, rend flesh from bone. 

It’s cute.

Fuck, he smells even better when he’s mad. The anger heating up the citrus, warming the softer undertones, until Jacob feels like he might melt from within. He can’t help but grin, rubbing a hand across it as he goes down into a crouch, on his haunches, trying to make himself less of a threat though that’s going to be nigh on impossible.

“Where am I? Where’s the Sheriff--what _happened_?”

“You’re safe.” It’s the first words Jacob’s actually spoken to him and he wants them to be right, doesn’t want to have to knock him out again. “The humans are being taken care of. But you’re safe, you’re with me now.”

Rook tips his head, Jacob watching as his nostrils flare, quick and sharp inhales. 

“You’re...like me.”

“We all are. John and Joseph and I. You’re with your own kind now. You’re safe.”

Repetition only to get the point across. Jacob despises repeating himself but it’s worth it to drive the point home, to explain to Rook there’s no reason for him still to be growling out words around his fangs. 

“I want to leave.”

“And go back to what?” Jacob rises, watches Rook measure the span of his body, ignores the bite of pride deep inside at the slight wonder there. “The idiot humans who led you into a trap? The useless people of this county who couldn’t tell there was a wolf among them? No. You’re right where you need to be.”

 

“I’m not…” Rook cuts himself off with a grunt, shakes his head like he’s trying to erase whatever thoughts were going to come next. “I don’t want to be part of your pack.”

“And you don’t have to be.” Jacob shrugs, draws deep when Rook’s scent goes sweeter with confusion, big blue eyes peering curiously up at him. “You don’t have to belong to them. You belong to me.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

Jacob grins and he can hear the wolves outside, responding to his swelling cheer, the realization of a lock sliding into place. He never had much faith in Joseph’s preaching before, thought it all a little too human for them. But he knows now at least some of it is right. There are things in this world that are meant to be, set in place before any of them draw their first breaths. A destiny he’d be an idiot to ignore, one he doesn’t want to despite usually relishing in railing against any sort of preordained plan.

“That’s where you’re wrong, pup. You belong to me. You’re mine.”

“You’re my mate.” Rook mutters with a dawning sense of shock, emotions all over the place, scent only growing stronger as he starts to panic, as Jacob starts to grin.

“That’s right, sweetheart. And now that I’ve got you? You’re not going anywhere ever again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna see the Kinktober plans? (We're almost at the end now!) Check out [this post](http://momomomma2.tumblr.com/post/178633371556/happy-kinktober) on my Tumblr!


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